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by SpArRoWsWeNcH
Summary: Oneshot. Jack revisits Port Royal in his old age. Read/Review :


Hey everyone. I was going through my computer's old files and I found some things I never put on here. I wrote this probably 3 years ago but I was hoping to post it on the site and hopefully get some feedback. Let me know what you think!

It was, naturally, a letter of the noblest sorts: sealed with an emblem, written with the finest of inks, and addressed to a man of the oddest nature. Once brilliantly crisp and folded, it resided in his so delicate hands. Had one witnessed the temperament of his actions, they'd have believed him to be holding a child. Now appearing in a crumpled state, its words 'sloshed' together (for that is the only word that is so capable of describing their symptom); the outcome of the pouring of his heavy heart's compassions.

His face twisted as he felt the jolt of the ship's anchor lowering and then its dockage. His now silver hair danced behind him with the wind as he stepped unto the wooden planks. His eyes shifted to that of the moon: it glinted off of his golden teeth as he smirked. He was always _home_ here, wasn't he? A dignified air was released as his feet pelted lightly upon the soil while he so glided. Not once did he remove his eyes from the so casually written slice of paper.

Now standing upon the steps of the Norrington mansion, the old friend buried his face once more into the letter, hoping to inhale a trace of her perfume. Perhaps, the comforting scent would be able to lure him in without such a sense of nervousness. But, she would not be found inside, that he knew. She had long since removed herself from the city and housed herself elsewhere, for "too many memories would be surrounding her."

His hand resonated when it licked the handle. It shook while he then proceeded to unlatch it again, this time fully succeeding. His old boot knocked and then echoed in the now emptied foyer. Naturally, his paces treaded up the steps and casually made their way into his bedroom. As he had made his way past the immense number of rooms, he had envisioned the magnificent number of parties and time so spent within them. Visions of dancing women dressed in beautiful gowns and men with suits and cuffs that shined like pennies crossed his mind.

He took a step into the bedroom. His eyes sparkled as the sunlight emerged through the blinds tracing a hint of sunlight upon the floorboards. Through the rays bouncing within, he could clearly see the particles of dust, symbols of long time neglect, floating about the room.

He couldn't help but reveal a smile as a delicately powered wig atop a dresser appeared. Genuinely happily, he waltzed towards the mirror. He cut a clean circle, outlining his face, through its dust with his sash and sighed. He had now noticed the aging of his face- the whiskers below his chin tinted black and the wrinkles beneath his eyes standing out with such intensity. Still, he had the same quick mind and dark charm of what _was_ Jack Sparrow.

He placed it atop his own thick mane. This time, a sharp laugh emerged from his lips. _'James would have been roaring by now,' _he thought. It was always his pleasure to be the cause of his rich laugh.

It _smelled of a nobleman_ when he unfastened the closet doors. He closed his eyes as the fulfilling scent of the sea and the power of goodness swept over him. Beneath a mass of overcoats he found an old cigar box littered with past medals. He sat right there, smack dab in the center of the floor of the closet, with the box atop his lap. He ran his calloused fingers over each individual one's designs (for he made it a point to) and recalled every ceremony that they were received at. He had attended each and every last one for what he considered his best friend.

He picked himself up, still clutching the box. Just as he was about to exit, his paces stopped and he lurched forward; once more he found himself standing before the dresser. He slowly drew its top drawer ajar and lifted out a parcel of letters loosely knotted together with a black, dusted ribbon. His face twitched as the first symbols of lettering appeared. It was his very own! From about the middle he released one, proceeding to open it. The creases were deep- marked and wrinkled very obviously from such an immense number of times of being opened and then closed by quite a strong man's hands.

"_Dearest James-" _He smiled. Memories like these always did affect a man, didn't they?

"_I'm glad to find that 'Lizabeth has been everything you had ever wished her, or any woman at that, to be. She's a 'beaut, lad; I wouldn't want to see you let a good thing slip away. I can only give you my congratulations, my hopes of luck, and my deepest regrets for my absence at the ceremonies._

"_You asked for me to pour my heart to you. I fail to sit here with my back rested against the helm and preach to you of how life it perfect. I fear defeat, above all else. Yes, I can see your face glowing with laughter just now, thinking to yourself 'Ah, the Sparrow fears.' How I long to be the cause of that laugh again, James. How I yearn to be once again with the two I can genuinely refer to as my friends!_

"_They say the Company never fails to uncover a pirate they so long to capture. But, what have they in their minds to believe that I, the most feared pirate in the Caribbean, am able to be caught!? Clearly they have not a single intelligent thought in their puny brains even combined! _

"_But, I am failing, James. My touch is slowly dying and fear is its replacement. I am unsafe in these waters sure enough, and positively if I were to even think of visiting I would be in irons instantaneously. Do write back. Do reassure me that I am all-powerful and that I am surely invincible. You've always been the one to tell me the best things. _

"_All my love, Jack."  
_He drew his finger to his eye and placed the letter in its original position. He placed the entire parcel beneath his arm and clunked down the stairwell. He then noticed, sitting bluntly upon the table, completely sealed and dated an entire six months ago, a letter addressed to him. He added that to his collection as well, and made his way through the door and directly towards the ceremonial grounds.

The air was crisp for a now April morning and the sun had just begun to rise. Jack was startled at how he had passed but an entire evening just admiring medals and accomplishments throughout the house.

He set himself down upon the grassy knoll placed just at the head of James' memorial statue. Flowers bloomed from the soil and their smell littered the brisk air wonderfully. The leaves shaded the area so splendidly: Jack took that into account of how carefully his wife must have envisioned the area to be for her own husband's admiring. He unsealed this mysterious letter, suspecting it to be written only days before his death.

"_Jonathon,-_ "He always knew it was James' call to him when he heard such formality emerge from one's lips. He was the only one to ever address him by his proper name.

"_Life has been far too difficult without your presence. Elizabeth has gone mad, (I suspect with her age) constantly sewing and occupying herself with her hands. Oftentimes she wishes to not converse with me and to sit lonely upon the porch into the late hours of the night._

"_She misses you. The mention of your name brings a spark to her too dull eyes. She was never like that, you know. With the loss of your visits she has grown so weary. Each morning I find her eyes swelled and I watch her struggle to pull herself up from the bed. I can only see you as an explanation._

"_Come home, Johnny. Come home to us-" _He brought his reading to an end for he could bear no more. He lowered his head to kiss the sweet earth beneath him. He felt so lucky to be alive, still even luckier to have survived even with his passing.

From his cloak pocket he released a slick quill and a thin sheet of paper.

"_Jamesy," _he began.

"_I apologize for my weakness of being such a coward. I love you. I love you with all of my heart. You know this, of that I am sure. I only wish to reinforce it, and display such a passion to you in any way possible on every day possible. I love you James. Rest in peace and the utmost tranquility. Watch over me."_

With that, he released his ring circled about his middle finger. He rolled this letter in such a fashion that he would then be able to thrust it through its opening. He got to his feet, brushed the thin coat dirt from his breeches, and gathered his so coveted possessions beneath one arm. In the other, he held his fresh note delicately. He walked through the town, ignoring the evil and unwelcoming glances of passerbys. When he reached the crest of the hill he closed his eyes and envisioned his friend beside him. This was, in fact, their favorite place, and was, in fact, the very place in which James had wished for his body's remains to be spread.

The soft hill overlooked the ocean and God's own horizon. Jack lit the letter and therefore his ring aflame and sure enough released their ashes over the area. After all, in what other way, or in what other way more favorable to the nobleman himself, would they be better received?_ 'James would have laughed at such foolishness.'_


End file.
